what's the deal with this substack?

*cardi b yelling* WHAT IS THE REASON?

If you’re reading this, you probably know me, and if not, hi, I’m Cecilia. I’ve been chronically online for over a decade. And no, I agree, it’s not a good look. This all truly started for me in 5th grade when I made a blogspot to upload pictures of monkeys I found on Google images. It accelerated into forums, horse girl websites, tumblr, the works. All of that is not nearly as interesting as the life I’ve made in the real world, like my brief involvement with the Milwaukee DIY music scene, moving to Los Angeles, co-founding a mental health app, and creating art.

In this time the number one thing I’ve complained about it is my inability to go offline. Maybe you have a desire to get offline for the same reasons I do… primarily, the feeling that the internet has shifted from a place of curiosity into a horrible brain worms factory. I hear the ghost of Mary Oliver whispering into my ear, asking if this, endless scrolling, is what I want to do with my one wild and precious life.

A few days ago I had a convo with a friend about the state of online. The idea of a cohesive underground is long gone. In the 90s, a friend’s 25 year old brother who lived at home and smoked pot in his room all day might have been a sort of guru to you, introducing you to music, movies, culture (and conspiracy theories). There was a curriculum and a shared history, whereby even strangers in the scene could be familiar to you. People met up in physical places like record stores, cafes, clubs. With the internet and increasing alienation, the idea of a mono-culture — and, in relation, the thing I’m more interested in, its counter culture — has disappeared. 

There are now a million subcultures, that mostly exist online and kinda fail to be “productive” (ie: tangibly changing peoples’ lives with community or creative output). My friend and I wondered where the real hippies, weirdos, punks, artists and Bohemians are. I realized then that I wasn’t seeking them. She said it best: “the most rebellious thing right now is to be offline.”

Nonsensically we started echoing to each other that “offline is the new online.”

And I think this idea is enough reason for me to make a concerted effort to engage with the real world. To clear out the cobwebs. To regain my attention span. To drop the inane discourse and instead make space in my life for my friends, art, and nature. It all starts with being more intentional about my internet use and replacing junk-food media like TikTok with books, lectures, poetry readings, and film clubs.

Substack, to me, feels like a call to return to the golden age of blogging. Since the death of traditional media, we have rapidly lost space for curated content and for slow content. Instead, an algorithm made by the Zuckerbergs of the world dictates what we see, and it’s all so fucking boring, spiritually empty and lacking in style. Every free space of the internet is advertisement, and if it’s not, it’s a firehose of beautiful faces, clickbait, “trending topics” and everyone’s opinion.

Like many matters in life, though, I can decide if this is worth my time. And although I feel a bit like a gambling addict sat rotting in front of a slot machine, losing my youth (instead of my money, although yes some of my money) to the alluring images on my iPhone, I think I’m in a place where I can re-direct my attention, and try to create something worthwhile. For funsies.

You and me, we’ll have to see how this goes, but my intention with this substack is a selfish one. I want to channel my energy in a way that is more meaningful than scrolling. I want to get back to that idea the child version of me once had about wanting to be a magazine editor. I want a superficial reason to seek art and a place to reflect on it. In a slow way. In an intentional way. 

So, an appropriate title for this dispatch might be “Cecilia’s Thoughts.” You can think of me laying on my bed kicking my feet behind me as I write about the tragic deaths of childhood pet hamsters or as I compile a playlist titled “Clawfoot Bathtub” complete with images I find beautiful in vintage mags. I’m not really any kind of expert. But I do approach the world seeking discovery and pleasure - and I’m hoping that’s enough.